


Milk and Honey

by LogicGunn



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Hypothermia, M/M, Moody!John, Weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 19:12:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21081674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogicGunn/pseuds/LogicGunn
Summary: “I don’t know how they do it in the United States Air Force, but in Canada if someone can’t keep their core temperature up, we share body heat. Scoot up Colonel.”





	Milk and Honey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amycooper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amycooper/gifts).

> With the weather taking a turn for the colder here in Scotland I decided it was time for the obligatory hypothermia trope fic, and then cerulean-beekeeper literally asked for it. So.

“Make sure to pick dead, fallen wood, Colonel. Living wood doesn’t burn well,” says Rodney. 

“I know,” replies John coolly as he pulls on an empty rucksack. 

“And don’t go too far, visibility is really poor, it’s easy to get lost.” 

Rodney’s still digging out the snow cave, but he doesn’t miss the eyeroll as John turns away, snapping the straps closed over his chest. “I know.” 

“Oh, and if you see any decent sized rocks, snag those too!” Rodney shouts after John’s retreating back. 

“I know, Rodney!” snaps John over his shoulder, stomping off, compass in hand. 

Rodney sighs. “Yes, yes, I know you do...” he says to himself. In a few steps John vanishes completely into the blizzard and Rodney is alone. They’re both feeling the strain. John has barely said a word since the snowstorm hit and what he has said has been snarled through gritted teeth. For his part, Rodney knows how annoying he can be when he frets, but he really is doing his best to keep it in check. He mops his brow with his gloved hand, knowing full well that he shouldn’t let himself work up a sweat, but the blizzard isn’t slowing down and the already dangerously low temperature will drop rapidly when the sun sets. They really need to be sheltered before then. 

*** 

Another planet, another pre-trade-native-ritual. The  Dimaterians are an enthusiastic and friendly but deeply pious pre-industrial people. As part of their wintery welcome they invited AR-1 to a tea-making ceremony, which made Rodney prematurely relax; tea was simple, tea was safe, tea was distinctly lacking in public nudity or dancing or any other mortifying or strenuous activity (except that one time the  Athosians accidentally traded for a tea that was euphoria inducing, but it had been hilarious watching Sheppard and a group of his marines attempt to demonstrate the can-can for Halling). But when neither he nor Sheppard were able to remember the name any of the many Pegasus deities as part of the ritual communion they were asked, politely, to leave.  Teyla explained that they were both from another galaxy, and a low murmur spread out among the crowd until the head honcho, a priest by the name of  Alegeneous had been _ delighted  _ to inform them that the confirmation temple wasn’t too far away and they would be  _ very welcome  _ to visit it for catechism. 

“Not too far away” translated to half way up a mountain and half a day’s trek through the snow. Elizabeth  _ encouraged  _ the two of them to take part -  _ It’s not like there’s a crisis at the moment John, we can afford to spend a couple of days making friends  _ – and so it was that Rodney found himself wrapped up in winter gear, clambering up steep slopes and following a very high, very narrow path to a temple for some religious claptrap. What they hadn’t considered was the weather. One moment they were clambering up rocky terrain under clear skies and a bright winter sun, the next there were snowflakes falling silently around them. 

“You know, this is an awful lot like that time I climbed Ben Nevis," said Rodney, smiling, until the thought made him panic. “Exactly how high above sea level is the stargate on this planet? Oh my god, is the air getting thinner? Does it feel thinner to you? Colonel?” 

And with the change in weather, John’s mood plummeted. “Jesus, McKay. It’s just a little snow, and no, it doesn’t feel thinner. Keep moving, we’re much closer to the temple than the village.” 

John updated Teyla and Ronon and they decided to wait the weather out at the temple, even if they had to stay the night, so they kept walking. The snow got deeper and deeper and Rodney felt more and more miserable in direct proportion to how irritable John got, until it was all they could do to keep from throwing rocks at each other. 

*** 

Rodney knows how to survive in all kinds of cold weather situations. Growing up in Canada, you’d have to be a moron not to, and Rodney McKay isn’t a moron. He knows to avoid sweating because sweat can get you just as damp as rain. He knows if you fall through ice on a lake you want to lean and push forward, not up, to get out. He knows that sheltering from exposure is key to keeping warm. Hence digging out a cave in a snowy mound while John searches for tinder and fuel and bed rocks. He’s got it hollowed out okay, there’s enough space for the two of them to lie side by side but they can’t sit up which Rodney knows will feel a little bit like being inside a coffin. It’s the best he can do in the circumstances; the walls need to be thick enough to keep it from collapsing. It’s a little rough around the edges, but it won’t collapse and it will protect them from wind chill until the snowstorm settles down. Even if they can’t get a fire going, they’ll be okay as long as they’re out of the wind. They have sleeping bags and MREs and power bars and glow sticks. 

Rodney is carving out a roof vent when John comes back, rucksack full of wood and rocks. He leaves the fire building to John and lays out their beds. He even forms a snow-pillow for each of them. It’ll be fine. Just like a camping trip. If only John would talk to him. But he doesn’t. He just lights the fire and clambers into the snow cave, undressing and flinging himself into his sleeping bag, then laying on his back and staring resolutely at the packed snow above him. Rodney waits a while for the fire to really get going then takes a couple of the rocks from the edge and puts them into both sleeping bags to warm their feet. John doesn’t say anything when Rodney unzips his bag, just moves his feet when asked. 

Rodney gets undressed and into his own bed, settling down on his front, feet toasty and warm. They lay there in silence for a time, listening to the wind howl outside and Rodney thinks of Atlantis, of the heat in the Power distribution Centre (and the Plant Cultivation Room in the Botany Lab of all places). He thinks of Teyla’s hot teas, earthy and spicy, of his shower beating down hot rain that soothes his aching back, of his childhood, summer camps and bonfires, toasting marshmallows on sticks. God, some s’mores would be great right about now. He wonders what John is thinking about and decides to try to break the ice that’s built up between them, colder than the snowstorm outside. 

“You’re really quite handy in a blizzard.” 

John sighs mulishly and doesn’t say anything, and the silence drags out long enough that Rodney starts to think he won’t reply at all, but after a while John says: “Did a three-day multi-branch military sub-zero survival course. You have to when you fly choppers out of McMurdo.” 

Rodney looks over at this. “Huh, did they make you do that thing the Navy SEALs do, where you have to swim through a tunnel under the ice?” 

John pauses, staring straight up, and licks his lips. “Mmm.” 

It’s almost a dismissal but Rodney’s curiosity is piqued. “There’s a story there, isn’t there?” 

“It wasn’t mandatory, but we all did it anyway.” 

“And?” 

John presses both his palms to the roof of the cave. “I almost died.” 

“What?! How?” 

“I got stuck. Had to be rescued. I was only four feet underwater and I had to be pulled out by a SEAL.” 

Rodney has an inkling that all the melodramatic huffing and stomping might not be his fault. “Well,” he begins, diplomatically. “It must have been exceptionally cold. Anyone would have difficulty with that.” 

“No. I mean, yes,” John tips his head towards Rodney. “It was cold, but that wasn’t it. We built up resistance to it with ice baths the week before.” 

“Well, what was it?” 

“It was just so...so narrow, so close. I couldn’t breathe...I...” 

“Well, yes, with you being underwater.” 

“...I panicked.” John said it so quietly, if they hadn’t been stuck in a sound proof snow cave Rodney wouldn’t have heard him. “I fucking hate snow and ice and being cold and wet and trapped and-” 

Rodney reaches over, pulls John’s hands off the packed snow above him and squeezes his wrist. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” 

John closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. “Sorry.” 

“No, no, don’t be sorry,” says Rodney, taking his hand back. “I just...do you want me to make the cave bigger? I mean, structurally the smaller it is the stronger it is, but it can stand to be a little larger if you need it to be. I could get some sticks, reinforce it with some support beams, up the sides and across the top. Of course, they’d have to be curved cause the roof is arched, but that would be easy to do. I have plenty of string in my pack. And duct tape. I could manufacture-” 

John laughs out loud, his full on, foghorn, louder-than-an-airplane laugh. His breath mists the air around his face and he’s shaking with the force of it. Rodney goes from indignation to confusion to amusement in the blink of an eye and snorts, which sets John off even more, which set Rodney off even more in turn. They lay there, side by side in their sleeping bags, gleefully convulsing with laughter and crying tears of mirth. The tension dissipates and the petty squabbles of the day suddenly feel a galaxy away and a life time ago. Maybe they are. 

John scrubs his face with his hands and looks over to Rodney,  _ finally. _ “God, Rodney, you just...every time you...doesn’t matter what life throws at you, it’s like there’s no problem that can’t be solved with the liberal application of physics and elbow grease.” 

“I’m pretty sure that’s true.” 

“You’d really do it, wouldn’t you?” 

“What, reinforce the structure of the cave? Absolutely.” 

“Make it bigger just to make me feel better.” 

“In a heartbeat. Can we go to sleep now?” 

“Sure thing, buddy.” 

*** 

Something pulls Rodney out of his sleep. He's not sure what it is at first. He’s warm enough even though the fire outside burned the last of the wood hours ago and the hot rocks he warmed his sleeping bag with have long given up all their heat. He pokes at the roof vent with a stick, dislodging a few snowflakes onto the ground next to him, but it’s still open, the air is fine. It’s pretty dark, the glow-stick Rodney snapped a few hours ago has dimmed to a diffused glow. He looks over to John. His back is to Rodney and the only things he can see are tufts of unruly hair peeking out the hood of his sleeping bag. He seems peaceful in the dim light so Rodney rolls back on to his front, ready to sleep again. When he closes his eyes, he hears it. John is shivering. Involuntary muscle movement burning energy to heat up the body’s core. SHIT. Rodney’s fine but John has approximately 10% body fat. He has zero insulation and hardly any reserve to burn. 

“Sheppard?” 

“I-I’m f-fine McKay. Go b-back to sl’p.” 

Rodney reaches for his pack and snaps another glow-stick from it. “You’re not fine. Why didn’t you wake me up?” 

“S’just c-cold.” 

“I don’t know how they do it in the United States Air Force, but in Canada if someone can’t keep their core temperature up, we share body heat. Scoot up Colonel.” 

“What?” 

Rodney quickly unzips his sleeping bag and grabs the zip of John’s. “Move to the other side of your sleeping bag. I’m getting in. I’m going to have to touch you, try not to have a heart attack.” 

It’s testament to how cold John is that he doesn’t argue, just turns and shuffles back till he's facing Rodney. Rodney rolls in next to him, zips it up, squeezing them together, and pulls his own unzipped sleeping bag over the top of them. 

“This is going to get a little snuggly.” 

“S’fine.” 

Rodney presses John’s head down onto his chest and his hands up into his underarms, manfully refraining from squealing at the icy cold feeling. John's extremities are freezing, no wonder he’s shivering. He intertwines their legs, pressing his feet over John’s to warm them up too and wraps his arms around John’s body. They settle like that for a time, tucked in together, the weight of two sleeping bags surrounding them. 

“What’s your favourite hot drink?” asks Rodney. 

“Huh?” John lifts his head. 

“I like hot chocolate, obviously, but I also love that hot spiced not-apple cider thing the Athosians make in the winter. What about you?” 

“Oh.” John lays his head back on Rodney. “I really, really like the sweet milk that Teyla makes for Torren,” he says, muffled by the sleeping bag. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s really good.” 

“When I was a kid my mum used to make me warm milk and honey. It’s comforting.” 

“Gosh, you’re all share today Colonel.” 

“Want me to shut up?” 

“No, it...it’s fine. It’s nice.” 

It  _ is  _ nice, and it's just as nice to be curled up together, something Rodney didn’t expect. He’s not much of a cuddler, his parents weren’t exactly tactile and none of his relationships lasted long enough to get past the all-touch-equals-sex thing, and John is normally so hands-off that it’s surprising how much he seems to have relaxed against Rodney’s body, soaking up the warmth and snuggling in. As Rodney’s warmth defrosts him, John stops shivering and starts to relax. 

“Mmm, you’re so warm,” says John. He’s rubbing his face against Rodney’s shoulder like a cat. 

“I usually am. It’s why I hate hot environments. I can never cool down.” 

“It’s all that hyperactivity. You probably have a high metabolism.” 

“That sounds dangerously like voodoo, Sheppard.” 

John yawns. “S’not. It’s a real thing. Documented. By scientists.” 

“If you say so.” 

“I do say so.” 

“Okay then.” 

The snowstorm is still going full throttle, and it’s surprising how quiet it is despite the vast amount of snow falling from the sky. It feels good to be hidden in the cave, tucked away and warm and safe, nothing to do but wait where they are. No Wraith to fight, no cascade power failures to fix, no personnel issues to arbitrate, and no paperless paperwork to complete. 

“S’warmer than it should be with the two of us,” muses John. 

“That's because the energy is better trapped between bodies than fabric; skin isn’t breathable so less heat is lost per person when you’re in the same sleeping bag.” 

“S’nice.” 

“Yeah, it is.” 

Now that John has stopped shivering, Rodney wonders if he should go back into his own sleeping bag. That’s probably something you should do once you've helped your teammate warm up. He doesn’t  _ want _ to go, but he did  kinda force himself into John’s sleeping bag, and while it was perfectly reasonable to be here when John could have died from hypothermia, now it might be unwelcome. John did say it was  _ fine to snuggle...  _ he also said it was  _ nice to be warm  _ but it doesn't necessarily follow that it’s  _ nice to snuggle  _ does it? Maybe John is waiting for him to go before he goes back to sleep? He should probably go. 

“Are you warm enough now?” he asks. 

“Mmmhmm.” 

Rodney pulls away. “I should-” 

John pulls his hands from Rodney’s underarms and throws his arms around his torso, clinging tightly and pressing his chest against Rodney’s stomach. Rodney takes that as a no. 

“-stay, I should stay. Okay then. Good.” 

“I haven’t shared a bed with anyone since I was married,” mumbles John into Rodney’s t-shirt. 

“Really?” 

“Mmm. To be fair, I didn’t sleep next to Nancy all that much. I was away a lot. And when I was home I couldn’t sleep.” 

“Doesn’t seem like a good start for a marriage.” 

John sighs. “Yeah, I know that now. Didn’t then.” 

“Hmm.” 

“Actually, I’ve slept next to you off-world more often than I’ve slept next to every other person combined.” 

“Well that’s...I mean...”  _ What the hell does that mean?!  _

“Yeah.” 

“We’re team. We've sleeping been together for a long time.” 

“Yeah.” 

Rodney realises what he just said and gets flustered. “Uh...I mean the four of us...I don’t mean-” 

“Yeah, I get it.” Rodney can feel John smile against him. “I like sharing with you.” 

“Well, good. Me too. With you, I mean.” 

“You don’t snore.” 

This makes Rodney grin. “You do.” 

John snaps his head up, outraged. “I do not!” 

“Oh my god do you snore! It’s like a freight train!” 

“That’s a lie. You’re a dirty, rotten liar McKay!” 

“I am not! It gets so bad that sometimes I wonder if Caldwell would really be that bad as a CO. I bet _ he  _ doesn’t snore.” 

“Rodney!” John puts his hands back into Rodney’s underarms and starts tickling. “Take it back!” 

“Okay, okay! God!” laughs Rodney. “I take it back! I take it back! Uncle!” 

“That’s more like it." 

John's close, almost unbearably so. The standard issue sleeping bags are pretty roomy for one person but there is no space left for Jesus with two. Rodney can feel John’s pulse through his t-shirt, and the heat is making them both flush. John’s hair is all over the place, like a sleepy child’s, and his laughter tapers off into a shy grin. Rodney’s suddenly very aware of John’s legs, bare and pressed against his, and John’s hands, having slipped out from Rodney's underarms and slid round his back. John bites his lip and his eyes flicker to Rodney's mouth. They’re so close they’re breathing each other’s exhale and really, it’s only natural for Rodney to close the distance, or is it John who does that? It doesn’t matter, not really, because they’re kissing. Just a light peck, nothing to write home about...until suddenly it is. John brings a hand up and tilts Rodney’s neck before pulling back, licking his lips and closing in again at a better angle, mouth soft and wet and open. 

Soft and wet and open turns out to be the best thing ever in Rodney’s book and when John’s tongue flickers a question at his bottom lip, he invites it in with his own. They press and nibble and tease, alternating deep tongue kisses with barely touching ones, breaking away from time to time to press lips and teeth to jaws, ears and necks. They both moan in into each other’s mouths when Rodney yanks his arm free to pull John firmly into him, hand snaking down his back to grab his ass, and John bangs his elbow on the packed snow above them in his excitement. 

“Shit!” 

“It’s probably best if you don’t do that again,” says Rodney into John’s ear. “Suffocation-by-snow is low down on my Trip-Advisor list of best ways to die in the Pegasus galaxy.” 

John snorts another laugh. “Hey, maybe it’s stopped snowing, we could take this outside?” 

They both check in haste, but the fluorescent light from the glow stick shines off a near-wall of snowfall. 

“Right, maybe not,” says John. 

“We could...” 

“Yeah?” 

Rodney hesitates. He’s not sure if this is a one-off hypothermia-induced experience or a repeatable one. “Actually...never mind.” 

John caresses Rodney’s face with his hand. “Hey. You’re the idea guy Rodney.” 

“Rain check?” 

John presses a single, firm kiss to Rodney’s mouth. “Sounds like a plan.” He pushes Rodney onto his back and settles his head back down onto Rodney’s chest, pulling his arm around his shoulders. “Dawn’s only a couple of hours away. Hopefully the snow will have stopped by then and we can get going.” 

“Okay.” 

“Hey, do I really snore?” 

“Go to sleep John.” 

*** 

Sunlight shining through his eyelids wakes Rodney up. John’s still curled around his side and Rodney smiles at the thought. He wasn’t dreaming, that kiss really did happen. John stirs under Rodney’s gaze; he looks up then ducks his head, a big smile on his face. “Morning,” he says, ears turning red. 

“Hey.” 

“So uh...it’s stopped snowing.” 

“That it has.” 

“I should...uh...radio the guys. Cause I’m team leader.” John winces at his awkwardness. Rodney takes pity on him pulls him up for a kiss which leaves them both breathless. 

“You do that.” 

“Okay, I’m just gonna-” John shuffles out of the cave, throwing Rodney’s sleeping bag on the ground to stand on and pulling his clothes on as fast as he can. Rodney dresses in the cave (inside the sleeping bag). He’s not ashamed to admit he’s not tough enough to do it outside. By the time he hauls himself out, John’s contacted Teyla and Ronon and is fully armed, the Lieutenant Colonel mask firmly in place. Rodney wants to say something, but he isn’t sure how receptive John will be, so he rolls up the sleeping bags and packs them away again. 

They decide not to dismantle the snow cave, just in case. 

*** 

The path is easy to spot in broad daylight despite the extra 20cm of snow. There are pillars dotted all along, carved with illustrations of the local dogma. This route is a kind of pilgrimage, Rodney realises, something which yesterday he didn’t take seriously but today, with a new perspective, he’s feeling a little more charitable towards. So he tries to take note of the rest of the images and decipher what they represent and how it translates to the lives of the native population. By the time they reach the temple he has a good understanding of the underlying message; one of hard work and respect and taking time to enjoy the moment. It’s a philosophy he can get behind today, especially considering the view he has walking behind John. Sheppard. The Colonel. He’s going to have to get a handle on this before they meet back up with Teyla and Ronon. 

The temple is modest but grand in its own way. Stone masonry and thatched roofing, but with decorative pillars and vertical plant walls. They are greeted by another priest, Dianarchus, who welcomes them with a warm smile, tells them he was expecting them (“How did you know we were coming? Seriously Colonel, how did they know? They haven't invented radio yet!), and offers a pitcher of Brai tea. Too late Rodney realises that on this planet tea is served cold, not hot. The look on John’s face as he accepts a cup matches Rodney’s own disappointment. 

“Perhaps we could enlighten these fine people?” says Rodney sotto voce. 

“It’s probably sinful to serve it hot,” says John, just as quiet. 

“Excuse me, um, Dianarchus?” says Rodney. 

“Rodney!” whispers John, in a panic. 

“How can I help you my child?” asks Dianarchus. 

“I was just wondering, this tea, it’s...magnificent. Do you only serve it cold or...?” 

Dianarchus breaks out a smile. “We do serve some teas hot, but the Brai tea turns too bitter when heated. Would you like a hot cup of Brachl to warm up? It’s not a tea, it’s made from roasted beans rather than dried leaves and petals, but it is quite delicious.” 

“Oh my god, they have coffee here!” says Rodney. He looks at John who is too slow to drop his look of indulgence and Rodney realises that he  _ enjoys  _ this, he enjoys Rodney’s enthusiasm and has done for a long time. He smiles at John and follows  Dianarchus into the temple towards his dark roasted bounty. 

When they return to the village (accompanied by a guide in case of another freak blizzard)  Alegeneous is, again,  _ delighted  _ to greet them.  Teyla and Ronon are fetched from a dwelling and this time the communion goes flawlessly: Rodney is able to speak at length about a multitude of gods, not only of their divine purpose but also how they could affect people in their day to day life. John spiels out the names and celestial roles of a handful of deities (Rodney coached him on the trek back), mispronouncing a couple but getting the message across just the same. It’s the essence that matters, not accuracy. When they depart back to  Atlantis they are given a sack of  Brachl beans, some  Brai tea leaves and a promise to enter trade negotiations with Atlantis should the need arise. Elizabeth considers this a big tick in the win column and they are given the rest of the day off (it’s only 1130 Atlantis time). 

Gate-lag is a bitch but Rodney is used to powering through. He showers in his quarters and heads to the lab to check up on his minions. Nothing’s blown up and no one is in tears so Rodney considers that his own kind of win and settles down to check the progress of his simulations. On an ordinary day, John would saunter down to the labs at lunch time and drag him to the mess to eat at around 1400, but this isn’t an ordinary day and once his simulations are all accounted for, Rodney checks John’s location with Chuck then heads to John’s room via the mess hall, carrying his well-gotten gains on a tray. John opens the door in his underwear, pulling up his BDUs in a rush. It’s clear Rodney just woke him up. 

“Oh, sorry...I, uh, there’s no emergency, I can come back later if you-” 

“Are you insane? Get in here!” John pulls Rodney into his room by the shoulders, grabbing the tray from his hands and putting it down on his nightstand as the door closes forcefully. 

“I was just bringin-mmmph!” John grabs Rodney and kisses him mid-sentence, hard and desperate, hands frantically tugging their t-shirts off and smoothing back down the expanse of Rodney’s back. 

“So, about that plan?” John pants, pressing their foreheads together. 

“Is now a good time?” asks Rodney. 

“God, yes.” 

John flings Rodney onto the bed and makes quick work of his boots and BDUs before stripping off his own and throwing himself on top of him. They wrestle briefly for control, but John wins by his sheer determination to devour Rodney. He straddles Rodney, pins his hands above his head one handed and tugs his bottom lip with his teeth. “Fuck me.” 

“Woah, slow the hell down. We are not there yet.” 

“I know, I know, but I really want to.” 

“Yeah, me too but...” 

“No, you’re right.” 

“Unless this is a one-time thing?” 

John whacks the top of Rodney’s head with his free hand. “Not funny, McKay.” 

Rodney feels a hidden tension dissipate at this. John’s thinking long term.  _ Thank god.  _ But clearly John's also thinking short term because he leans down to capture Rodney’s mouth again, his free hand fumbling their boxers down and  _ ohthankyouJesus  _ it’s a brilliant idea because then they’re pressed together from their knees to their shoulders. Rodney can’t move much between John’s hand gripping both of his above his head and John’s weight pressing him into the mattress but he doesn’t need to because John starts moving, thrusting down in earnest and they’re perfectly aligned so it’s pure bliss. Rodney pushes up as much as he can in time with John’s thrusts, and very quickly they both tumble over the edge, Rodney following just after John, kissing the whole time until John collapses onto Rodney, his face mashing into the side of Rodney’s neck. 

“I wasn’t sure you still wanted to,” whispers John into Rodney’s shoulder. 

“Are you kidding?” replies Rodney in astonishment. “Of course I wanted to. I’ve wanted to forever.” 

John nips little bites across Rodney’s collar bone. “Good.” He raises his head. “Oh, what did you bring me?” 

“Well, it’ll be cold now.” 

John pushes up and takes a sip from the mug on the tray. “Milk and honey?” 

“The milk’s that powdered stuff but the honey’s real.” 

John looks down at Rodney, beaming. “Jesus, Rodney, you’re something else. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. I figured it’d be nice after all that snow.” 

“Yeah. Hey, you hungry?” 

“Actually, I’m really tired.” 

John snuggles back down and wraps himself around Rodney. “Let’s sleep then.” 

“Okay.

**Author's Note:**

> John totally does snore. ;)


End file.
